


Louder than God's Revolver (and twice as shiny)

by caimani



Category: Batman (Comics)
Genre: Batfam Week 2017, Family Fluff, Gen, Happy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-14
Updated: 2017-06-14
Packaged: 2018-11-13 21:51:09
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11194155
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/caimani/pseuds/caimani
Summary: Five times Dick Grayson unsuccessfully asks his family to go to the Met Gala with him and one time…





	Louder than God's Revolver (and twice as shiny)

**Author's Note:**

> title from [Look Alive Sunshine](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=egG7fiE89IU) by My Chemical Romance

Dick makes a mistake the first time. 

Alfred’s busy in the garage and he texts Dick to ask him to pick up the mail on his way in. And, normally Dick really doesn’t care about paper mail. He likes Bruce’s efforts to go completely digital, but there are some annoying things that just always arrive by letter.

Like this thing. One of those heavier envelopes made from that super fancy stuff that rich people use to show off how rich they are. Another party invitation, or some kind of high class fundraiser or--

Or an invite to next year’s Met Gala.

It’s curiosity that has Dick opening the letter, really. Curiosity at what next year’s theme will be. As much as he dislikes social things like galas, he’s always enjoyed seeing what celebrities will wear to the costume party of the year.

>   
>  _The Metropolitan Museum of Art Costume Institute Benefit_  
>  _Co Chairs Dick Clark, Grant Morrison, Vincent Price, and Anna Wintour_  
>  _Request the honor of your attendance at_  
>  _A preview and dinner to celebrate the unveiling of the exhibition_
> 
> **_TAKING FLIGHT_ **  
> 

Dick is gaping. Taking flight. That is so perfect. Feathers, wings, clouds, butterflies, 

He rushes to drop the rest of the mail in a basket in the downstairs office, where Bruce is sitting with his chin resting in his palm, looking at a computer screen. Bruce takes one look at Dick, then at the letter.

“Hey Bruce--”

“No.” He reaches out to take the letter from Dick. “I told her to just send an email. It’s a waste of paper when she knows I’m just going to--”

“I want to go,” Dick interjects, holding the invitation out of reach. 

Bruce raises an eyebrow. 

“You should go too, Bruce,” Dick says, “The theme is _Taking Flight_ , it’s so perfect we can do a--”

Bruce groans, leans back in his chair, and presses his hand to his temple. “No, Dick, I have made a tradition of politely declining Anna Wintour’s invitations to her costume party. I’ll write a check and let her know--”

“Bruce, come on, it’s one night and you can leave early if you want,” Dick pleads. 

“No,” Bruce says stubbornly. He puts on his I’m Going To Win This Argument posture, complete with the small frown, the firm eye contact, the crossed arms, and the perfectly straight back. Dick has seen it plenty of times over the years from Batman, as well as Bruce. He never can imitate it and give off the same feel. The gray that’s been spreading through Bruce’s hair easily makes up for the lack of cowl. 

“I don’t care if you want to go, if you want to take your brothers or Cassandra, but I will not be attending that. I’ll let Alfred know you brought in the mail.”

Dick sighs loudly and turns away from Bruce. “Don’t bother. He already knows.”

He tucks the invitation into his jacket pocket and heads dejectedly for the kitchen. When Dick reaches into the refrigerator to grab something to drink, he pauses at the sight of three items with masking tape labels. A large glass bottle says _DAMIAN’S ALMOND MILK, DO NOT TOUCH_ ; a plastic jug says _DUKE’S NORMAL MILK, DO NOT CONFUSE WITH FAKE MILK_ ; and a near-empty pack of Mega Monster energy drinks has a particularly large piece of tape that says _Master Tim, If I see another package of this before Sunday, I will replace all of the liquid inside with zero calorie flavored water._

Well, Dick thinks, as long as he works out a better way of selling the idea of the Met Gala, he can always count on his siblings.

~~~~~

He waits a few days before he seeks out Damian. So far, Bruce doesn’t seem to have mentioned the Met Gala to anyone else, since the topic hasn’t come up at all. Not at breakfasts, dinners, pre- and post-patrol family chatter.

It could mean that Bruce is trying to drive the thought from his mind. Or he’s hoping Dick will forget about it. Whatever the reason, Dick’s not going to waste his opportunity to be the one introducing the idea to his siblings.

That Friday, Dick offers to pick up Damian from school. He waits a few blocks until he speaks up.

“Damian, I want to know if you’d like to represent the Wayne family at something next year. An event.”

Damian looks away from the window. “What sort of event?”

Dick shrugs. “It’s this annual fundraiser for high society people and families. Bruce doesn’t like it, but it would be good if the family showed its support.”

Damian hums and looks back out the window. 

There’s a momentary flutter of hope in Dick’s chest. “It’s for an art museum, Damian, and it’s--”

“What is it called? You said this is annual and it must be a highly publicised event. I must have heard of it.”

“The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Benefit,” Dick says. He glances at Damian to watch his reaction and see if he recognizes it.

He doesn’t. Dick returns his attention to the road, inwardly rejoicing. Yes, yes, yes, this is going to work! He can already start to picture costumes for both him and Damian to wear. They’re going to look so good.

Damian says, “I don’t believe I’ve heard of it. The Metropolitan Museum of Art? That sounds… interesting. Father does not wish to attend?”

“He’s busy,” Dick says. “You know how he is. But since you like art, I thought you’d want to go.”

“I do like art…” Damian says, softer. 

“So you--”

“But I don’t think I want to look like a utter fool standing beside you.”

“What?” Dick almost misses his turn. He pulls down a less-busy street and stops the car at the side of the street. 

Damian holds up his phone. On the screen are pictures of the past year’s Met Gala costumes. They look so amazing… and unfortunately, by Damian’s body language, he doesn’t share that opinion. “Honestly, Grayson,” he snaps, “I’m not a simpleton. Of course I’m going to research something before I agree to it. Even the most rudimentary search makes it clear that such an” he pauses to make a face at the screen, “ _event_ , is simply asking for attendees to make fools of themselves.”

Dick protests, “It’s a costume gala, people are supposed to dress as art--”

“These outfits are _hideous_ , Grayson,” Damian points at a dress that Dick remembers being regarded as one of the best to fit the exhibition’s theme three years ago. “Look at this monstrosity.”

“If you don’t want to do a costume, you don’t have to,” Dick says. He takes out his own phone to search another year’s Met Gala. “Look at this, Damian, plenty of men just wear suits. Nobody expects you to follow the theme.”

Damian scoffs. “Perhaps, but I would be expected to remain with you all night. And considering your sense of fashion, I don’t trust that you would not embarrass me.”

Okay, this is a lost cause. But now Damian’s pushing Dick into defending his honor. He can take a couple insults, especially from his family, but it’s not fair to go for his uniforms like this. 

Then again, Damian is a kid and Dick is the adult here. He shouldn’t let Damian bait him. Dick made his appeal and it didn’t work, so it’s time to move on.

Dick pulls back onto the street and starts heading home again. “They were good uniforms,” he mutters.

~~~~~

Dick goes to Duke later that day. Damian turning him down was disappointing, but he feels more confident about asking Duke.

“Wait,” Duke says. “Are you serious? The Met Gala? You’re not joking?”

“No, I’m serious,” Dick says. “The Wayne family got an invitation. The theme is going to be Taking Flight, so you could do anything from a suit with a tie that has birds on it to a costume like… well, like anything that flies.”

Duke’s smile is a bit strained. “Yeah, I guess…”

Dick can feel his confidence fading away. “You don’t want to.”

Duke rubs the back of his neck. “Look, Dick, I’m flattered that you want to ask me, I really am, but… I uh… You know, that kind of thing is just way out of my comfort zone.”

“It could be fun,” Dick tries, even though reason says he’s already lost. “Yeah, there’s some annoying celebrities, but there are also some cool ones. And we can always hold up the Wayne tradition of disappearing early.”

That earns him a laugh from Duke. “I’m sure. Yeah, maybe someday in the future I might be a bit more open to that, but right now? Sorry.”

Dick sighs. “It’s okay.”

Duke pats him on the shoulder. “If you’re asking me, I take it that Bruce doesn’t want to go?” 

Dick shakes his head. “He says he’s never gone to it and he doesn’t want to start now.”

“Damian?”

“He thinks I’m going to embarrass him.”

“Ha!” Duke grins. “I think he’d embarrass you just as much. What with him and telling people exactly what he thinks of them. What about Tim?”

“I haven’t asked him yet,” Dick says. “You think he might say yes?”

Duke shrugs. “His parents were the kinds of people who went to stuff like this, right? He’s more comfortable at galas and charity benefits and stuff. I dunno, I think it’s safe to guess he’d be up for it.”

~~~~~

Tim is a busy person, as it turns out. Half the time, he isn’t even working in Gotham and he only gives notice of where he’s going at the last possible minute. When he _is_ in Gotham, he’s at his own apartment, or he doesn’t stay long enough to need a place to crash.

So Dick picks a day at random. He puts on his Nightwing suit, flies over to San Francisco, and heads straight for the Titans Tower.

It’s early enough in the evening that Tim is unlikely to be out on the streets. When Dick enters nobody’s in the common areas. A quick glance at the coffee table shows him an open coupon book with a page torn out.

Shit. Dick pauses, and then decides that he’s come all the way here and he might as well check to make sure Tim isn’t out with the rest of the Titans right now. If it’s a bad time now, Dick can always try again later.

He heads down to the computer room to find Tim in his Red Robin gear, with one sleeve pulled back and a slightly stained bandage wrapped around his forearm. That’s only the first concerning thing Dick sees. At the main computer, Tim is surrounded by three empty mugs, seven large paper coffee cups, the remains of a six-pack of energy drinks, and a concerning amount of discarded empty bottles of five hour energy. 

Dick picks his way through the mess of cans and bottles and leans over Tim’s shoulder. Tim is hacking something on one screen while three screens show different local news stations and another screen runs an analysis.

“Red Robin?”

“Huh?” Tim answers, distracted. 

Okay, Dick can either ask what he came here for, or he can be a responsible older brother and haul Tim off to bed because it looks like he’s been down here for… a while.

Or he can do both. One after the other. Starting with the one that is less likely to be questioned if Tim is distracted. His little brother has agreed to countless things in the past due to being distracted. This is a great opportunity.

But of course, he’s going to take care of the kid afterwards. Can’t just leave him like this.

“I need you to take care of something with me next year at the beginning of May. It’s important. In New York. B can’t help with it, and I need someone to have my back.” Dick pauses and listens to the constant sound of Tim typing and the news announcers chat. “I wouldn’t ask you if--”

“What day? How long?” Tim asks. He sounds fucking _drained_. This is Dick’s best chance.

“I can’t narrow it down any more than the start of May,” Dick says carefully. “But it’s Bat business, so I--”

“Is this the Met Gala?” Tim asks suspiciously.

Dick is silent a beat too long. “What? No?” he says, desperately trying to save his ass.

Tim sighs heavily. “You wouldn’t plan something important this far in advance and not have a specific date, Nightwing. And I’m aware of when Anna Wintour sends out her invitations.” He spins around in his chair. Dick blames Tim’s impressively dark bags under his eyes on the poor lighting in here. “It’s got to be some kind of theme that you’d want to dress up for to get you so excited that you come out here.”

Dick crosses his arms and scowls. “ _Taking Flight_. Come on, Tim, it’s one night--”

“No thanks,” Tim grumbles, turning back around. “If I can avoid an unnecessary Wayne family social event, I will. Ask… hm.”

“Bruce said no, Damian said no, Duke said no,” Dick says, resigned. 

“Ask Jason,” Tim says with a chuckle.

Dick scoffs. “Do you think I’m an idiot?”

~~~~~

Dick doesn’t think he’s ever heard Jason laugh so hard. As Dick turns to leave, Jason wheezes out, “No thanks, Dickhead. _You_ might have no shame, but I’d rather be the dead forgotten son than make my red carpet debut as Papageno Wayne.”

~~~~~

Cass presses a glittery black gloved finger to her lips, then touches the finger to Dick’s cheek. “You’ll knock them dead,” she promises.

“ _You’ll_ knock them dead,” Dick says. The spot of her black glitter mixed with the blue, gold, and red glitter that’s generously spread across his face won’t be noticed. 

The limousine stops at the red carpet and a valet steps forward to open the door. The cameras are still flashing at the previous celebrities to step onto the red carpet--a country music singer and an actor.

Cass is closer to the door, so she steps out as soon as the door opens. She’s wearing a short yellow dress decorated with elegant spirals of sheer black chiffon and lace. A yellow crystal flowered tiara sits on her head while her hair is pinned up with white gold bee shaped clips. She has small black gloves, black kitten heels, black stockings, and two sheer gold and black wings attached to the back of her dress. Alfred did her makeup before they left, and used gold foil cut into flowers along the left side of her face (expertly covering a newly acquired scar).

The crowds of photographers on either side of the red carpet instantly lose their shit. 

“Cassandra Wayne!”

“Miss Wayne!”

“Cassandra, look here!”

“Miss Wayne, please, over here!”

Dick beams with pride for his little sister. His heart swells again with love for her, and gratitude not only for her willingness to come, but also for her enthusiasm for the costume designs.

She really is the best.

Dick waits a brief moment as Cass takes another step away from the limousine before he moves. It takes a moment to carefully position himself to slide smoothly out--so he doesn’t damage any of the pieces of his costume.

Then, Dick quickly moves out to stand side by side with Cass.

There are significantly more shouts of his name than Cass’s now, but that’s fine. They’ll stick together for the entire night so the attention is more equally shared between the two of them. And besides, the designer who created both of their costumes deserves all the attention and recognition they will get tonight. 

Cass takes his hand and together, they start to walk down the red carpet. Dick holds himself tall and confident, loving every inch of his costume.

An azure blue unitard with a deep V-neck, two huge and elaborate blue, gold, and red artificial-feathered wings on each of his arms, a long blue and red tail dusted heavily with gold glitter, short glittery golden boots. There are imitation golden feathers woven into Dick’s styled hair and his nails are painted blue and gold.

He loves it. The only possible way it could be better is if it could actually take him into the sky. Maybe later, he’ll work out a version of the Nightwing uniform with wings like these, that can allow him to glide through the air.

But for tonight, he’s more than happy just spending the evening with his favorite sister.

“Thank you Cass,” he whispers after they pose for another group of photographers.

“Love you,” she says softly back.


End file.
